Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

Trigger Warning.
Talk of suicide and swearing.

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Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

I hate you. I hate everything you have taken from me. I really fucking hate you.

I hate how I have to spend so much time and energy keeping my guard up and making sure that I don't fall to your fucking grips again and again.

I hate how draining that it is.

I hate what you've taken from my family.

I hate that you make me believe these bad things will be better for my family in the end.

I fucking hate you.

I hate how evil you are.  You are an evil fucking bitch.

I hate how you scare me.

I hate that I'm always waiting for the next shoe to drop and you will creep back into my life.

I hate how you are always lingering around teasing me.

I hate how, even when I know I'm not OK, I feel guilty because I feel like I should be just fine. 

Dear Suicidal Thoughts...


I will continue to keep trying.... not to let you back into my life the way you have been in the past.

I may not be successful today, or last week, or last month.  But one day I will.

If, despite all that I am doing, you manage to come back, I will not let you take over my life as you have in the past.  I will kick you in the fucking balls as I am trying to today.  You might be winning today. But be reminded, you will not fucking win. You will not!

I will continue to try and keep myself safe and protect my body, mind and spirit from you.
You will never beat me.  Never.  I promise you one thing.  You will NEVER fucking win.


Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

You will NEVER kill me.  No matter how hard you try.  I still wish you would go to hell and leave me the hell alone.  

Monday Musings...When Depression Strikes

For every individual, depression is a very personal situation.  Each person, each experience is unique in its own way.  Today, for me, it is a dark shadow hanging over my head and everything I do.  It has followed me from home to my therapy appointment and back home.  It doesn't matter how much I love my family, the glitch in my brain chemistry has me feeling very alone, inadequate, worthless, and in a downright very dark space.

These dips are common.  They wax and wane. Some days are brought on by circumstances.  Other days they are part of the how things roll.  Sometimes it is a mixture of both.  There are days that it takes me by surprise and others times it is terrifying because I know what is next.

Taking medications isn't for me.  Most have come with pretty significant side effects.  Life altering, life threatening, doing the opposite of what they were intended to side effects.  None have truly helped.

It isn't that I don't have very good tools and don't know how to pull myself out of the dark hole that I am in.
I do.  I've been here before.  Most days I'm pretty successful at using the tools to keep my head above water.  Today those tools are garbage.  Just like someone who has high blood pressure, diabetes, or high cholesterol tries to keep their numbers w/in range to remain healthy, I have and do try very hard to stay above water.

Most of the time I am effective.  Sometimes, like today, it gets away from me. I've used the tools and done what I know has (and usually helps).  I've reminded myself over and over something that my current therapist has said.  None of it has helped. And with each attempt to pull my shit together. I fall deeper and deeper. The one thing I know to do is to shut down.  Push everyone around me away and create a bubble in order to protect myself from further pain.

One of the things I have learned over and over is that silence magnifies the state that I'm in.  A sure way to add fuel to the fire is isolate myself from those around me and it is only a matter of time before the fire is burning to bright and I can't hide it any longer.  Yet, pulling out of the silence is sometimes to much.

I'm sharing this not because I want or need sympathy or pity from you.  I want whomever may be reading this to know that perfectly normal people, strong people, the father sitting next to you in church, the bus driver who took you to work this morning, the clergyman sitting in front of his congregation....each of them sometimes have a condition that can get out of control.

I am not an oddball by any stretch of the imagination when it comes to sharing my own struggles.  Millions of individuals suffer from one or more mental disorders. Far to many go undiagnosed because of the stigma that is associated with mental illness.

If your best friend had a brain tumor, you wouldn't tell her to try harder.   You wouldn't tell her that if she did XYZ than she would for sure feel better.  You probably wouldn't drop off the face of the earth because it was to much to handle and she was full of drama.

Last summer, when I went through TMS therapy, I went alone.  Every.single.day.for.several.weeks.  My husband did not go with me.  My local friends and family did not go with me.  Yet, for someone who has to have chemotherapy, you may take a meal, offer to clean their house, or offer to help in some other manner. I felt those around me were expecting this miracle and I would be much better.  And when I wasn't much better, I walked away feeling like I failed.  I still feel like I've failed.  My father has cancer.  If the treatment regimen he is enduring doesn't work he is not the one that failed.  We as a society will not look at him and think he failed and didn't do everything he could have done.

There are plenty blogs and articles wrote on 'mental illness vs physical illness' and how family and friends treat it so different.  I've found this to be extremely true in my own life.

I write this in hopes that somehow, someone, will find a way to reach out if you sense someone close to you is struggling with mental illness.  Speak from your heart.  Speak honestly.  Speak without harsh judgement. You wouldn't speak harsh to someone with a brain tumor.  Don't do it to someone who is struggling on any level.

This illness.  This stigma.  It is debilitating.  It is overwhelmingly lonely. It can be deadly.

Hope on the Horizon - TMS - Week 5

I've not updated the last few weeks on how things have been going with TMS because I've not had in me.  Quite honestly, there have been some really tough moments.  Really tough days.

There have been days where I wonder if it is worth it.  I keep telling myself it will be worth it at the end of the day.  IS THERE REALLY any HOPE on the HORIZON????  Many nights it doesn't seem like it.

On Thursday, I met with the psychiatrist and she did the MT for the rTMS - which is on the right side of the brain and will treat for anxiety.  The Beck Depression and Anxiety questionnaires have shown off the charts anxiety and depression.  The Beck Depression is gradually getting better.  Still in the 'severe' range.  However, not off the charts type of range.  Yesterday was the first day for me to receive the rTMS.  It was triggering.  It was downright horrible. I tolerated it because...I feel I need to.  Because I want to find the hope on the horizon!! And so regardless of how horrible I might have felt it was.  Regardless, of if it seemed like Chinese water torture.

The MT on both sides is pretty high.  The computer/coils/machine gets hot.  My head gets hot.  My brain gets hot.  Sitting in the chair for nearly 1.5-2 hours gets uncomfortable.  It is what it is. And I will push through it till the end.  I do believe the end is in sight. I hope so anyway.

 I've had VERY few people in my day-to-day life tell me they have noticed any sort of difference. When  asked my husband will tell you no.  Early last week Jodi (therapist) mentioned she could tell a difference.  We discussed her observations.  I don't have to believe her. But I can keep the things she has said to me in the back of my head to reflect on.  And days like today...maybe I believe her a little bit.

I've had a couple friends that live distantly tell me they can/have seen a difference in photos that I've posted of myself, they have noticed it in my voice while talking on the phone, and just in overall conversations.  

Earlier in the week a receptionist that I see at my chiropractor office several times a week told me "G*, you just don't sound like your chipper self.  Even in the roughest moments...you come in here with a smile and are always so pleasant.  The last few weeks you seem to be really struggling.  Are you okay?"  She is aware of TMS and had asked me if I noticed a difference or was feeling better.  I ALWAYS schedule appts w/my chiropractor AFTER my TMS appts bc of the toll it takes on my neck and lower back sitting in the chair.  She is seeing me after being triggered (TMS has been triggering trauma crap), after discussing this aspect with her she was able to see the connection and got it.

A few different times over the last 2 weeks I've caught myself thinking "hey..." and then am smacked with the learned behaviors, the belief that I can't get better, and overall mental illness crap.  And I fall back into the cycle of self destruct, self injury, and self sabotage behaviors.  

And then today happened.

And then today not only happened....but it REALLY was okay.

A few differences that I've noticed TODAY:

**2 nights in a row...I slept more than 3-4 hours.

**Last night I fell asleep HARD and when I say hard I mean HARD.  There is some not so positive aspects of that happening in relation to self harm/soothing stuff.  However, I wasn't rattled by it like it usually does.  Sure I was rattled. Sure the physical pain from biting yourself, leaving marks, and having your husband really have to intervene...suck.  It didn't cause a domino effect where I ended up swirling.  Self injury for me usually starts small and spirals to bigger and more out of control issues. That did not happen.  Instead, I dealt with the backlash.  

**Instead of coming home from a morning at the Farmer's Market and Chiropractor and going to bed "to take a nap...."  I ate lunch w/my family.  Did the dishes.  Swept all of the floors.  De-furminated our dog.  Planted a perennial flower that has been sitting in the pot for a week.  Prepared part of Sunday's dinner (Crockpot Lasagna).  Took the dogs for a walk. And did several other things.  I have not one time...laid down in bed to take a nap...OR...sat on the couch and checked out on my computer.  

**Actually, today is the first time I've turned my computer on in over a month and didn't sit down for more than 30 minutes and end up checking out for hours on end.  Instead I've limited my time to doing only productive things (for the most part).

*I've not sat waiting for the other shoe to drop.  You know when you notice the good...and then wonder when the bad will creep in.  That hasn't been my mindset.  Instead it has been the opposite.  As little bits of negative and darkness creep in...I've countered it back.  With a big F to the U to the C to the K to the Y to the O to the U...you are not stealing this day from me.

There has been only a few minor self harm/self sabatoge thoughts that have come/went.

There have been no suicidal ideation --- which hasn't happened in several weeks/months!

I believe I have 2 more weeks left.  Instead of 4-6 weeks of treatment we are looking at 7-8 weeks.  If I understand correctly it is because the MT is unable to be at the 120% bc it is so high.  I'm not 100% certain. 

TMS - Day 2 - Intense Anger

Today was the first full day of treatment. All nearly 90 minutes of it.
It was just myself and the technician.  So much nicer not having an audiance glaring at every twitch and move I make.

So much nicer not having several people there.  As I said previously, so far every single person has been nothing but awesome.  My perception of the entire process isn't as awesome.

Which brings me to the next piece...

The tolerance to treatment was a little bit easier.  The unraveling was not any easier.  Actually, it was a tad bit more unraveling than than the first day.

Over the last few days I've been incredible angry.
Angry that this is where I'm at.
Angry that this is the alternative.
Angry.
Angry that damn it this is my fucking life.

And then the anger subsides for a short time.
And then a variety of other emotions come to the surface.
And then before I know it the barrage of emotions...come crashing down...and I find myself in a pile of tears sobbing.

Because damn it all...this is my life
Because damn it all...I hate this.
Because damn it all...I hate that THIS is basically the only option I have left.

Journey to TMS - Part 3

If you've not read the previous posts on Journey to TMS...please start with the links below.

Part 1 ~ Journey to Transcranial Magentic Stimulation
Part 2 ~ Jourey to TMS ~ An Answer to A Prayer

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I can't promise I will blog/journal the entire process.  However, in the first week or two I will try.  With weekly updates as time goes on.  There are not very many blogs that discuss TMS Treatment/Therapy.

The following was wrote the evening after my first appointment and the day or so after.

Week One....Day One....or so I thought.
5/6/13
Today was the beginning of treatment.
Or so I thought.  It was my hope anyway.  Instead, I sat for almost 2 hours in the TMS chair while the psychiatrist and assistant attempted to find the motor threshold.
No luck.
They were unable to find the spot they needed.
I will return at the end of the week and see a different doctor from the sister-clinic.

My anxiety was high before the appt. today.  It is much higher now. I came home and spent the next two hours puking.  And the last 2 hours I've spent trying to stay present, not give in to the negative self talk and swirling associated with it.

TAKE 2....Week One...Day One...Retake.
5/10/13
Today was the beginning of treatment...repeat.
Dr. W came from another clinic about 1.5-2 hours away.  The psychiatrist that will be overseeing my treatment is local and new(er) to TMS.
Dr. W set up some parameters at the beginning.  Talked to me a little bit about a few options that he/we would have have if he was unable to locate the spot that was needed. It took a great deal of self talk to get me to this appointment.  My toleraence level was markedly less today than when I was there on Monday. After what seemed like hours they found the particular spot they were looking for...or...so they thought and on my way to getting this crap done and over with for the day.

After finding the proper placement they needed to find the proper dose or whatever it is called.I believe it is called MT-Motor Threshold. I can't remember right off hand.

And then they started the first treatment.  I had watched several different videos on what to expect, what  it feels like, and all that other jazz.  When Dr. W described what I may/may not feel he didn't give a very accurate description.  He told me "depending on how well you tolerate it...we may need to tweek the angle a little bit...if it hurts in your eye, teeth, or left side of your face let me know..."

SOB....he was so incredible way off.  I truly had no idea how horrific it would be.  I don't blog this to scare anyone off.  I'm brutally honest.  I wish that I had somewhat of a clue what to expect.  That first set took me off guard. To say it was awful would be an understatement.

Treatments are generally 37-40 minutes long or some damn thing like that.  However, the target dose is higher and requires the system to take a longer break.  Which means treatments will take about an hour and half.

There was much unraveling today.  I received half of the treatment today because of the length of time it took to find the motor threshold.  By the time I was done we were done today.... I was DONE....and I really was MORE than DONE!

It was comforting to have the technician be as understanding as she was.  My gut tells me she will be good to work with on a daily basis. Trusting her will be another story.  The Dr. and Technician from the sister clinic were super nice and sweet.  However, my tolerance for men providers isn't always the best.

It took quite awhile for me to pull myself back together so I could go to work.  I worked the rest of the day.  Stuffed the emotions and feelings associated with this.  The moment I am in my car and alone - the tears turn into sobs.

I'm angry.  VERY angry.
I hate that I have to do this.
I hate that this is my life.
I hate everything about this.

Journey to TMS - Part 2

Part 1:  Journey to Transcranial Magnetic Therapy

It had been about 2 months since I heard from the TMS Clinic.  As I wrote previously (and below), it came at a very low point.

In a nutshell, the clinic manager called and let me know that they were still working with my insurance company.  And because of the complexity of the insurance issues, they were willing to take a risk and start treatment.

An answer to a prayer.

I wrote the following excerpts in a google document about a week ago the day before I went for the first appointment/treatment (that treatment didn't happen...more on that later)  

The Before
*Initially when I got the call from the TMS Center...I was very hopeful.  I immediately text/called two of my closest friends.  Speaking with one of them on the phone while she was working.  Fear, self sabotage, and all that other crap didn't have a chance to sink in at that point.

The call came on a day when I was unable to get out of bed.  At a point where not much more fight was left.

That call was nearly a month ago.  I've had plenty of time to back out.  I've had plenty of time not to follow thru and just plain build my anxiety up so damn high I can't stand myself.  Night terrors have filled nearly every single night of the last 3-4 weeks.  Much in relationship to TMS therapy.

And my anxiety is extremely high.  LOTS AND LOTS of anxiety!

There is no turning back.  I can't keep going like this.  I know something has to change.
So I will go.
And make the best of it.
And pray for the best.

In less than 24 hours, I will go for the initial treatment.  I'm not sure that I can do this.  I don't want to go alone. I will.  I have to. My children deserve to have their mother back. If anything else.  They deserve to have a mom.  And I deserve to be their mom w/everything that I've got.

The Last 3 days....

...and then some have been incredible hard.
...as in gut wrenching hard.

I'm struggling to keep my head above water.
To find balance among the waves.
I know that I'm not alone in this struggle.
Yet at the same time it feels as though I am.
I've pulled out all the tools.  All the stops.
Everything I can to keep swimming.
It hasn't been enough.

My hair hurts.
My teeth hurt.
My ears hurt.
My toes hurt.
Everything hurts.
I know why.
Relaxation tools have went out the window. I've done them.
Over and over...from deep breathing to some mindfulness.

I'm not positive tonight. I don't see much positive ahead of me.  I got up today. I went to church.  I made a crockpot dinner.  It is the extent of my ability to cope for today.

Living in the Dark - Guest Post for My Daily Jenn-ism

The following is the blog post I wrote for Jenn for her March Mental Health Awareness Month Guest Blog posts. Thank you Jenn for opening up your blog and giving a voice to the many areas of mental health this month (and often). If you've not been to My Daily Jenn-ism. head on over..you may just want to go check her out.

LIVING IN THE DARKNESS

Readers of my blog know that I’ve struggled with various forms of depression and suicidal ideation off and on for several years.  Consistently since my youngest was born in 2002. The intensity spiked up ten notches after I had gastric bypass and the ability to absorb medication properly came to an abrupt halt in 2004.

Some days I believe I am the Queen of Suicidal Ideation.  I imagine my psychiatrist believes the same thing.  Several years ago, shortly after I was released from a short inpatient hospitalization, she said to me “Do you really believe you will eventually kill yourself?”  I can’t even tell you what my response to her was.  What she said next, I know I will never forget.  Ever.  It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to process.  I didn’t process it.  I didn’t even let it affect me.  She was right.  I knew it.  And just like many other areas things in my life...I stuffed what she said...deep down in the ‘don’t go there’ emotional bin.  

It wasn’t until about 18 months ago, when she said it to me again, that it dug deep. Even deeper than the first time. When I left her office, I spent another hour sitting in my car.  Processing what she said.  The depth of her comment.  And how incredible hard it was to hear.  

“__, I’m not convinced you won’t kill yourself.  And that haunts me each night.”

This was a continued conversation regarding medication, the lack of being able to take them, being at the end of another failed attempt, and pure frustration for both of us.  

I had no hope at that point and the pros/cons of being hospitalized was thrown around. To hear Dr. KSB confirm she didn’t have that hope, was a bit devastating.  Initially, few years earlier, it didn’t have the same effect.

I contemplated never going back to see her.

I made an appointment with a psychiatrist that specializes in gastric bypass, whom I had seen when I was in the hospital, whom had done an evaluation on me prior to my WLS, and whom even though I didn’t like...I did trust his knowledge was extensive.  It was a 6 month wait to see him.  I was desperate when I scheduled that appointment.  The appointment came and went.  He confirmed that I was seeing one of the best psychiatrists and that I needed to continue my treatment with her.  He gave me his recommendations and sent them to Dr. KSB.  Telling me to follow-up with her in a week or two.  He also, added several dx to my permanent chart.  That appointment was a year ago.  None of his recommendations were options at the time.  Dr. KSB has left the one recommendation as a last case scenario.  Agreeing that the only way she would suggest it being an option, would be if there was an attempt to end my life.  It would be, as he said...”LAST CASE SCENARIO”.  

And so...I continue to see her.  

She knows me. I know her. She trusts me (I think). I trust her.  

And she knows that filling me with all sorts of medications is not an option.  

At my last appointment with Dr. KSB, we discussed the current state of my marriage.  My husband and I are both patients of hers.  Once again, she told me ‘my gut tells me you would not survive a separation or divorce’.  Damn as much as I know that. It is harder to hear it.  Once again, I sat in my car for a good hour after my appointment trying to process what she had to say.

Currently, mental illness waxes and wanes in my life.  There are a few good days here and there.  There are suicidal days where I’m holding on to the last bit of the frayed string, trying everything in the book to stay alive.  Some days all I can do is lay on the couch and watch my dogs play, listen to my children's voices, fighting against everything to hold on to their sweet voices.  Praying and hoping against all hope that the depression will lift.  Leave me alone.  At least for a day.  

A few weeks ago, I wasn’t suicidal.  I had more than an entire day without the constant thoughts of hurting myself, the bad thoughts, the self hatred, and self harm impulses.  Just sadness.  Sadness that this is my life.  The next few days, I wasn’t so lucky.

That is the nature of this beast.  The last 18-24 months this has been my life.  It is a constant battle to get up every day.  Some days, the darkness lifts.  

Everybody Hurts by REM rings a bell.  I woke up thinking about this song this morning.

And so....I leave you with that.

Everybody Hurts.

Everybody Cries.

Hold On.

EVERYBODY HURTS Youtube Link

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And I will add I've had a bad week of suicidal ideation.  Self harm crap has been sky high.  My BFF informed me I'm to negative and need to try to increase positive in my life.  And while I know she is right, when every ounce of my energy is taken by going to work....there is nothing left.  Excuse?  Sure as hell is.  Bit it is where I'm at.  I have went as far as have plan in place and need to be talked down off the ledge by one of my Orlando Moms.  She gets this place.  I know she does.  And somehow that makes it that much harder.

Jenn added the following to this post. And I will do the same.

If you or anyone you know is struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

No matter what problems you are struggling with, hurting yourself isn't the answer. Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) to talk to a counselor at a Lifeline crisis center near you.

Someone loves you and someone WILL miss you.  I promise! 

~Uphill Battle to Get Back Up~

A few weeks ago I wrote this post "Getting Back Up...is the hardest thing to do".  If you have not read it I encourage you do so. I also encourage you to comment and let me know that you...are choosing to get back up. This battle isn't easy. I don't recall ever being told it would be.  I have been told it would be worth it.  I don't really know that I agree.  However, in the meantime I have nothing to loose by trying and everything to loose by not trying. 

I've been sucker punched hard the last few weeks.  So much so that getting back up off the floor has been much harder than in times past.  There have been a few days in the last 2 weeks that I've not managed to get back up.  I'm not proud of those days.  I'm not going to beat myself up over them either.  Yesterday....yesterday...was one of those days....where I was sucker punched to the point of not being able to get up.  And so, I didn't.  Sure I got up....but I never got dressed...and ate just about anything in our house that contained gluten, sugar, and crap.  I didn't brush my hair. I didn't brush my teeth.  And one of the biggest clues to anyone close to me that something isn't right...is I hadn't showered...in several days.  Suggestions from my dh that I might feel better if I showered ended with him regretting saying anything to me.  

I tried hard to fight past it.  If you read my I Will Get Up Again and Again's FB page you might already know what happened later in the day.  I tried hard to fight past having face planted on the floor.  It didn't work so well.  I tried.  I really did. What followed wasn't all that pretty.

I'm thankful for my bestfriend who called and not knowing that I needed to hear her voice. Even if I ignored her call, sent a text telling her I wasn't up to talking, and then called her back.  Who when she hung up told me "I'm going to call you back in a little bit to make sure you went home. You better answer your damn phone when I call you back."

I hadn't went home.  I did answer her call.  And we talked about nothing for quite sometime.

I'm thankful for the friend who keeps pushing me past my comfort zone.  Encouraging me to dig deeper even when digging deeper hurts like hell and is even scarier.  Even when digging deeper brings up some ugly crap. I'm thankful for her persistence when I snap back she is able to snap right back, reminding me to check in w/what the trigger(s) may be at the time.

I got up and fought like hell against the voice in my head that said "* don't get up, stay in bed, you don't need to go..." And I showed up for sacrament. I sat in the foyer.  Spoke to noone. And got up and left as the tears became to much near the end of the closing hymn.  And somone was headed their way to sit near me.  Pretending I didn't see her coming my way, I got up and slipped out of the building.  During one of the talks my son came out to get a drink and go to the bathroom. He sat with me for a few moments and then disappeared back into the chapel.  I came home and sunk back into bed for a majority of the day. 

Doesn't Get Easier

I've stared at this screen for well over an hour.  Trying to come up with the words to what I'm thinking and feeling right now.

About a month ago I wrote this post "The Good, The Bad, The Ugly....Meds Suck".  Meds can certainly suck. 

My appt with my psychiatrist was rather gut wrenching.  Again. It doesn't get any easier hearing the same things that she has told me many times over.  In fact, it gets harder.  And being able to feel my doctors frustration with where things are at made it even harder.  

When I walked threw the doors of my house this evening and my children were arguing like children do...I was reminded why I walked threw that door again.  

And then the tears fell even harder.

And they've not stopped.

I wish I had the answers.

I wish this wasn't so freaking hard.

I wish that the power of positive thinking would be the magic cure.

I wish this would be so much different than it is.

I wish there were answers. 

It doesn't get easier to get back up...
It gets increasingly harder...each time I hear the words out of Dr. K*'s mouth.

Getting back up...doesn't get easier.

~Checking In~

One of my fav pics from local zoo.

I've had several messages asking how I'm doing over the last few days. I appreciate the concern.  Even though...my private responses or lack thereof may not seem like it..I really do appreciate them.  Comments to posts have went unpublished because of personal info of a few different comments. Again, thanks.

Things are about the same.  No better.  Can't say they are not worse.  The last 48-72 hours have been gawd awful. Very few moments of clarity.  I managed to pull myself together enough to work for a few hours yesterday morning.  Even though I was there at work. I did not work. My pain levels were a bit higher than they have been and I took a pain pill as soon as I got to my parking spot and got on the bus.  By the time I got to the office I was about to fall over asleep.  So...I sat listening to movies on my tablet and slept.  I seriously slept more than I was awake while I was at work.  Left work and came home and went to bed.

Today was day four of taking the low dose of c.ymbalta.  It will be the last day if things don't wind down quickly.

Fighting the Darkness

These days.  They are dark.  Daylight savings has kicked my ass.  So much swirling.  I saw my psychiatrist this evening.  It was a much over-do appointment.  Some scheduling snaffu's almost made it so the appointment didn't happen.

It was a huge struggle to put it all out there.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.  There wasn't much good.  There was some really ugly.  As I talked to her and told her some of the really ugly that has transpired over the last 8 weeks since I saw her last...I was overcome with a huge sense of broken-ness!  This is one thought that I've tried very hard to overcome, not believe, and not fall into that trap.  For the most part I'm able to keep it at bay.  I don't often see myself as broken.  However, this evening as I sat in Dr. K's office that is the one thing that seemed to resonate.

It was incredible tough being 110% honest with her.  Making her hear me for where I am at.  Not just that I'm in the ever revolving realm of suicidal ideation. A spot she is very used to seeing me in.  But more of getting across to her the depths of where I've been.  We discussed why I've not called to get in sooner, why I didn't agree to see someone else while she was out of the country, and some other things.  There are some things I can't seem to really bring myself to blog about.  It isn't that there is anything to hide.


Being completely honest and real with Dr. K was one of the toughest things I've done in a long time.  I don't always have full faith/trust in her that she won't decide that this time I won't need to be hospitalized.  I'm not okay.  I know that.  It is taking every ounce of my energy to get up every single day.  I can't even begin to express how incredible tough it is.

Yet, I do it.  I can't tell you why. I'm not even sure that I know why.  This evening has been rough.  After leaving Dr. K's office today I had a bit of optimism.  There was a very small flicker of hope that maybe a re-try with her readily availble should things go ary would be helpful.  I spoke with my BFF on my way home and felt confident that this was a good plan that we came up with.  And then somewhere in the 30 miles between her office and my home....it all went down the toilet.

I've been in this space before.  I've danced this horrible choppy slow dance before.  I know how incredible shit filled it is.  It's getting old.  I wish it was as easy as choosing to be more positive, make different choices, change this or that.  Lord knows, I've done it. I'm doing it. This is where this fight becomes to much some days.  

It's Hot...and I Can't Sleep!

It is another one of those nights.

It is hot in our house.  And I can't sleep.  There are a ton of issues that seem to be piling up.  Some situational.  Some marital.  Some trauma/abuse related.  Some just plain depression/mental illness related.  Some just called life.

My husband and I are not on the same wave length of life.  The more I try to be understanding and see things from both sides of the coin....the more I get pissed off.  I'm not stupid.  I know that there are 2 sides to every story. I know that my own shit carries a huge weight within our marriage.  I also know, that there are many days, weeks, and months he does all he can to upset me.  To get me to react.

And this is the current dance between us.  I don't blog much about our marital issues. I try very hard to keep some things private.  However, right now at this very moment it is what is keeping me awake.  Mixed with some of the other long standing things that I struggle with.  The two things don't seem to mix well.

This evening was no different in the realm of one thing leading to another.  Unfortunately, I resorted to throwing a hissy ass fit. Over nothing really.  And over something that I'm very passionate about.  In the end...at the end of the night...I had done exactly as I have tried so hard not to.  Freak out and throw shit.  It isn't just about the issues of today.  Instead, as one of my previous therapist from years ago used to tell me all the time...."__, you need to stop stuffing that crap over and over.  The lid is going to blow off. When it does...it will not be pretty."  The lid blew tonight.  Kind of.  There really wasn't much of anything said.  Just thrown. From me. Not him. I take full responsibility. I'm not even going go there as to what the icing on the cake was.  It was just a matter of time.  

Several years ago we were involved in couples therapy.  It wasn't really all that helpful.  I guess it was.  But it wasn't.  Each of us would meet w/our individual therapist together as a group.  One of the things my therapist at the time (not the same person I currently see) would discuss often with us was how we would get into a rut what she compared to a Mexican Standoff.  As I thought about how things are this evening.  The last few weeks.  The last month.  We are in that same spot.  A Mexican Standoff...which one is going to give?  I'm not sure.  I know that I'm at the end of my rope.

Little bit of time has been spent discussing some of the current issue in my own individual therapy with Jodi.  I can only work on me. I can't change him. I know that. I've been in therapy long enough, seen enough different therapist, and walked this walk long enough o know that I can only control me....

That doesn't make things any better.  And quite honestly, it pisses me off that I am the only one that seems to think there is an issue.  Regardless of how I try to bring ANY thing up....he shoots back as it being me, myself, and I as the one who sees things differently.

And this is what is keeping me up this evening.  The wee hours of the night.  Feeding into the mindset that so often creeps in...the suicidal/hopeless thought process.  Believing they/my husband and children would be better off with out me.  Believing this on a good day is hard to fight off.  And as I sink deeper....there is no fighting off.  The only difference between me 'medicated and not' right now is that in this state of mind....I had more energy to do self harm and hurt myself.  At the moment there is no energy.  I was working more hours than I should while on C.ymbalta and the week and half after stopping it.  The last week...I've struggled more and more with work.  And getting out of bed in general.

It's not rational. I am fully aware that the above paragraph is 110% irrational. Yet, I don't for a moment believe it.  Depression has grabbed me by the horns. I know it. I feel it. I hear it. I see it.

And it is in these moments that I am attempting to tell myself that yes indeed..."Depression is a Lying Bastard...."  It's not easy.

So many things swirling.  I'm hot and I can't sleep.  And so I continue to attempt to find some sort of normalcy, hope, and belief...something to hold on to.

I'm tired.....emotionally and physically.  Tired of hurting.  Tired of living in constant pain. Every freaking day.  Tired of having a significant other, who also lives in chronic pain...not get it.  Expect much more than I'm physically able to do.  And then be sarcastic/martyr like when I can't do it.  Tired of not being able to take anything for the pain.  And when I do it increases the downward mood spiral or doesn't even begin to help with the pain.  Tired of doing everything possible to break up the a.dhesions/f.rozen s.houlder and have it not even come close to helping.I'm sure it is helping. I just can't see it right now.  And the therapy involved in breaking up the a.dhesions is grueling.  It involved needing to rely on pain medications.  I haven't been.  Up until the last few days.

Please tell me that tomorrow will be better!?!?!?!

*To the Voice in My Head*

Dear Self,

I wish it was as easy as this little purple blurp of a saying says. You know... "I'm not listening to you anymore because you are not nice to me."  If that was the case we would all be so much better off in life.

Right?

It isn't that easy.  That voice has been pretty freeking loud the last few days.  Hell it is always loud.  Somedays it is easier to quiet that voice than others.  It is really loud right now.  At the wee hours of the morning or night, whichever you call it...it seems to be even louder than the rest of the day.  Really loud right now.

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly...Meds SUCK

**DISCLAIMER:  This post is a representation of MY thoughts, opinions, and experiences.  DO NOT stop taking your medications just because...I or anyone else say they SUCK or anything else that I may/may not say about them in this post...There. I. Said. It.**

I've not really blogged much about the medication change that transpired little over a month ago.  I was hopeful on many levels.  At the end of the 2nd week, I was seeing some positive changes.  Still a tad reluctant of the positive effects...BUT very thankful there were some definite positives.  There were negatives in the realm of side effects.  That is something I'm very accustomed to at this point.  I've seen my current psychiatrist going on 13 years this next spring.  She knows me inside and out.  I've blogged before about our love/hate relationship.  I love her dearly.  I hate the effects medications have had on my body.  I've taken just about every.single.thing out there.  After my gastric bypass, my ability to tolerate medications became much less.  As in MUCH MUCH MUCH less.  And so the battle continues and as I've said over the last several years....got much worse.

THE GOOD:
Medications are prescribed by doctors to assist symptoms, to target abnormal medical findings, assist and prevent illnesses.  These symptoms range in anything from pain, insomnia, hallucinations, coughing, chest pain, cramping, and many more ailments.  The goal of medications is ultimately to relieve symptoms.  At the end of the day, the goal of medications is to get rid of ailments/symptoms and prevent something worse from happening.  In many cases the goal is both....prevent and get rid of.  At any rate, the goal is to normalize ones quality of life/living.

Medications work.  Sometimes.  In some people.  They have the ability to make bad things go away and allow people to live happier, healthier, and more productive lives.

THE BAD:
The bad thing with medications is they have side effects.  Take trazodone for an example.  It is used as antidepressant, but it makes people sleepy.  SO it is used in a sub-therapeutic (for depression) to help with insomnia.  This particular example can be a good side effect.  Most side effects, though, are bad.  They are uncomfortable the person.  They are often the reason patients stop taking their medications.  Side effects are usually uncomfortable.  Rarely are they fatal.  Usually they are reversible.  Most often these effects go away once the medication is stopped.

The interesting thing about side effects is that few of them happen to everyone that takes them.  Take the side effects of SSRI's for example, a ton of people will experience sexual side effects, not everyone will.  Tremors, sexual side effects, weight gain, and sleepiness are often common side effects of SSRI's and other medications used for psychiatric disorders.

I've struggled with nearly every single psychiatric medication that I've been prescribed since my gastric bypass in 2004.  As a patient who struggles with severe depression, a condition that is impeding my life, it is often worth taking the risk of any given side effect.  Usually, I find myself somewhat hopeful the effects may not happen.

THE UGLY:  (and it can be ugly)
Side effects are unpleasant, at best.  Many have rare and really ugly effects.  The rare and ugly effects are actually not side effects..they are considered ADVERSE REACTIONS.  They can be awful, fatal, and in rare cases irreversible.  Tardive Dyskinesia is an adverse reaction, one that takes time to develop.  One that was a listed as a VERY rare side effect of a medication I took about a year ago.  The usual response to the UGLY is to stop the medication ASAP.

Increased depression, self injury, suicidal ideation in my opinion falls under the ugly category.  This medication is prescribed to relieve these very symptoms and then it increases it.  Occasionally, these reactions/effects can lesson after a few days.  In some cases, they continue to get worse and worse.  Until there is no choice to stop the medication immediately.

THE MEDS SUCK:
I'm currently in the VERY UGLY portion of taking a new(er) medication.  The last paragraph describes what life has been in the last few weeks.  Each and every day increasingly getting worse.  The last few days have been hell.  I've been here before.  I've experienced this before.  I spoke with Jodi last night about the effects.  My pdoc is not in the office at the time.  Seeing someone else is not really an option.  And I've been this route enough times to know that I need to stop the medication immediately before I end up in the hospital.  Jodi and I discussed taking it every other day.  The suicidal ideation wasn't as horrific, was manageable, and not constant prior to reaching the full dose. I'm unable to cut the medication in half, therefore, taking it every other day was the option that seemed like the best action to take.  Giving that a try was something that I was willing to give a try.  After today, I don't believe I will be taking it again. At least not until I can see my doctor in a few weeks.

~Own It~

Love this article. Please take the time to read it.I had to read it a few times to really get the depth of what she blogs about.  However, this one particular quote really stuck out to me.  If you get nothing out of it...get this:

~KNOW THAT YOUR MENTAL HEALTH IS IN YOUR HANDS, NOT YOUR HEAD!~

Anyone been around this blog long, knows that recently I've had a surgeon tell me that my shoulder pain was  in my head.  And if I didn't have a nurse case manager with me...I would have believed him.  

Own it.  Take responsibility for picking yourself up.  Pick up the phone and make that call. Send an email. Reach out for help.  

No hiding the fact I struggle with suicidal ideation on a daily (sometimes hourly) bases.  Today was no different.  I had a good night sleep.  Best I've had in a few weeks.  I went to the dr this morning and decided not to go back to work. Had lunch with a friend and my husband. We shared some great laughs.  It was a decent morning on all accounts.

I went from feeling pretty dang good to all of a sudden the concrete divider on the highway was appealing.  This is how it works.

No rhyme or reason. Just happens.

These are the moments that scare the living shit out of me.

These are the moments when I wish J*'s phone didn't go to voice mail and I could *reach* her. I left her a message. As I usually do. Not specific. Calling my dh wouldn't help. And for the most part; I worked through this rough patch.

I know this blog isn't always the most 'uplifting'.  It is real. It is raw. It is life. It is the vomit of my thought process (often held back) on a daily basis.

And I will continue to try and own the fact that my mental health is in my hands....not in my head.

Forever is a Long Time

In the depths of a deep depression the thought of forever seems as though it is unattainable.
There were many blog and facebook posts on Monday about "World Suicide Prevention Day".  I don't believe I need to post the stats.  Or maybe I should.  As a reminder.

More people die in the US from suicide than the death rate from War and Murder combined.  Stop and think about that....Take 5...and think about that statistic.  It is huge.  If you take 5 min. of your time right now and learn the warning signs....you can make a difference.  Knowing the warning signs is so very important.  Even though I hate to admit it...I had a friend who knew the warning signs. Be that friend.  Check out this link.  You never know whose mother, father, sister, daughter...friend you might be able to help.

I don't wish this illness on anyone.  Not my worst enemy.  Ever.  Monday proved to be a day from hell.  I got myself up and to work.  And that was about the extent of my day.  I came home from work and retreated to my bed.  Where I stayed for several hours.  It was pretty folks.

I know most of the battle that I'm fighting at the moment has everything to do with the fact that I'm unable to work in my regular job capacity.  The surgery and pain issues following haven't helped.  The financial burden is huge.  And I am feeling like I'm slowly drowning.  The longer I"m off work.  The larger the financial burden is.  

Add into the mixture surgery related things such as...not taking the narcotic pain medication during the day so I can drive to/from work. By not taking the prescription, my pain is increased even more than it is with medication.  And my coping abilities are less and less.

Guilt over not being a very good friend to my 3 closest friends and not being a very good wife/mother.  All 3 have different things going on in there lives and I've not been able to be supportive in the manner that I should because I've been to wrapped up in my own shit.  I know a 2 of you read my blog...and...PLEASE know that I love you, think of you everyday day um day, and wish somehow we could be closer so I could show you how much I truly love and adore both of you.

The list continues to get longer.  And I continue to fall deeper and deeper into a hole that seems to be a familiar one.

No advice. No profound blog posts from other bloggers (that was my intent to share a few different posts from others that I have found helpful).  No nothing. Other than random ramblings.  It is way past my bed time.  Yet...I'm wide freaking awake. Unable to sleep.  Again.  If banging my head on the wall was an option I might have done it.

 

Pull up a chair...

...and take me serious for a moment or two.

Today kicks off the beginning of National Suicide Prevention Week.  Please take a moment and educate yourself on the resources available to you and your loved ones.

This is a battle that is very personal to me.  There isn't a day that goes by that mental illness doesn't effect my life on some level.  Not every single day of my life is plagued with depression, anxiety, ptsd, suicidal ideation and/or other issues associated with mental illness.  However, many aspects of my life are effected.  From the types of medication that I can/can not take, to the disruption of our son whom we adopted, to the effects that my own illness has on my children/spouse, and the long lasting effects of abuse/trauma not only for myself but my children.  We live this every single day on some level.

If you were to meet me on the street you would probably never know that this 30something, wife and mother struggles with depression and suicidal ideation on a very deep level.  You may not even be able to tell that I've been hospitalized not once, not twice, not three times...but four times in a 9 month period of time.  When I'm not recovering from a shoulder injury...I hold down a full-time job.  All this to say....you never know who you are going to meet that battles the darkness on some level.

In about 10 days will mark the 1 yr anniversary of my Uncle D's passing.  I wrote this post upon finding out the morning after that he took his life.
  Please take a moment and educate yourself about the resources available to you and/or your loved ones.   GET HELP FOR YOURSELF - CLICK on this LINK for info on where to turn. Call the number on the screen above.

This week, as I am able, I will attempt to blog about the things that have/do help me get to the end of some pretty suck-ass-I-can't-do-this-anymore-moments.

Obstacle

Trauma sucks.  It has reared its ugly head in my life right now (and in the past) in a way that is much more than I can handle at moments.

Insomnia sucks on a good day.  When it is related to trauma...it sucks even more.  It is in the wee hours of the morning and I"m sitting at my kitchen table.  Once asleep night terrors wake me up or they don't and my husband ends up waking me up.  Wondering "why are you breathing like that?" and many other things as he attempts to wake me, make sense of it for himself, and get me to talk to him.  There is no talking about anything. I give up and get out of bed.

The last week has thrown some things smack dab in my face.  It may appear that I've completely fallen apart.  This isn't really true.  I've come unglued.  Fraid and tattered a bit.  But I'm holding on little by little.

I've managed to stay away from self harm/destruct behaviors over the last month or so.  It hasn't been easy.  It is a slippery slope. And one that I've come close to falling down many times. Each time I've picked myself up, choosen to not engage myself in the battle and continued to move fwd and face the pain and ugliness at that moment.  J* mentioned today she wanted to hear me "own it...and mean it".  I will OWN IT...I KNOW I've done it.

At times that obstacle of staying on top of the slope is to much.  Nothing is accomplished.  Nothing is gained.  Everything is lost.  All of the internal dialog work to find a safe space and not engage in self harm.........it was gone in a split second tonight.  All to numb/drown out the pain.

Safe Place and Getting There

I'm a bit resistant in hand writing things and so I'm going to put this on here instead of writing it out in detail on the workbook paperwork from J* (therapist).

I think it could/will be particularly helpful since I am often not far from my phone.  Since I have access to my blog posts via my phone...this simple reminder is much easier/better than the hand written notes  J* has given me.  I will still write them out on the workbook papers.  Only this will be a bit more detailed.

Creating and Getting to My/Your Safe Space.  It means exactly what it reads.  Creating a safe space.  And how do you/I plan on getting there.

Last week I wrote out on the workbook paperwork in brief detail 'what my safe space would be'.  I don't think I fully comprehended the extent that J* wanted me to go into detail and why I needed to do so.  As the week has progressed, as I had a particular upsetting outburst over the weekend that left me ridden with guilt and trying to not be triggered in the failure mode, as I encountered some difficult feeling/memories/triggers during massage on Monday....as these things and a few other things have been put on my plate the last week....I've been able to see a little bit clearer why/what exactly J* was talking about.  Some of it is pretty private, some of this I can write...but don't know I can accurately talk about unless it is brought up. 

Creating a safe space isn't just about finding a place w/in your home, work, environment that you can go.  It is about finding that safe space w/in yourself.  As I read the homework assignment this week and it talked about 'getting to my safe space....whenever I am in distress or feel the need to do so' it made me think more about expanding this area.  It isn't just the place w/in my home that I feel is "my safe space..." but something that I can access when I'm not home.  I often carry w/me in my car (actually ALWAYS in my car) are 2 things from my Orlando 2011 ETAAM trip.  I have my damnit doll and 'you are not alone' rock.  These 2 items in the past I've found myself rubbing.  Often, when I'm working doing my normal job the rock is in my pocket.  Being able to rub it, feel the smoothness, the edge where the printed paper was put on it...and meaning behind it...will make the difference.  I've got a few of these rocks and I will in the very near future be getting them out. 
One space that works for me is a hot shower/bath.  I've struggled in the past with this being a borderline self injury tool.

Two days in a row this week I was able to get myself to that space and have it remain helpful.  Getting to this 'safe space' was not hard on Sunday.  I was able to put my computer down, lock my bedroom door and lock the bathroom (I Know...I know...locking myself behind 2 doors isn't the brightest idea) and get into the shower where I was able to decompress for whatever length of time. 

Getting myself there the 2nd day was not  as easy.  Life got in the way.  This is where finding something "outside" of my home is important. Having some sort of object to concentrate on would be helpful.  By the time I got home on Monday evening and was able to shower it was late.  It was quite a few hours later.  And I had worked myself up in a tizzy.  My head hurt. My jaw hurt.  My shoulder hurt.  My entire body hurt. 

I had spent several hours attempting to push back the swirling thoughts/memories.  Hell, I sat in my Psychiatrists office....did I mention it to her.  Hell to the No!!  If I had an appt w/J*...it might have been a good thing.  My pdoc and I have a love/hate relationship and I wasn't loving her that much on Monday.  Shit, I wasn't loving myself.  So loving/liking someone else was not in the works.

((((I KNOW I"M RAMBLING......But this is FOR ME)))))

Creating and getting to safe space are 2 very different things.  Yet, as I think about it...I find it very much the same.  If I have the item/space available to me....choosing to use them is much easier. 

H* (massage therapist) often uses different oils.  I am not real good about remembering which oils/scents she uses.  One of these days I will remember to ask her (or email her before an appt to ask her to remind me) which one it is that seems to be the most helpful.  Valor is one scent that she uses often. 

***************